A Sanguinary Endeavor
by D'AngelineHeroine13
Summary: Retelling of 'The woman with the issue of blood' from her POV. One-shot.


_**A Sanguinary Endeavor**_

_**AN:**_

_A)Doran is a made up, probably foreign, character. I also made the woman (who I will keep unnamed since no one knows) from _

_B)I took liberties with the issue of blood being a genetic disorder rather than the standard ideas of what her issue may have been (I can't find any conclusive evidence as to what the real diagnosis was, although hemorrhages seem like they're the prevalent theory). I always kind of envisioned her problem being more of an ancient form of Tuberculosis, and there are genetic blood disorders so I threw her father in the line of fire as well! _

_C)So far as I can tell, the woman with the issue of blood was in Capernaum when she met Jesus. I tried to incorporate realistic ideas of what the city and people would have been like. I also tried to follow the story as much as possible even with the the bits of artistic license thrown in. If I made any mistakes I apologize!_

_D)I did all of the editing and proofreading myself so if there are any mistakes as far as grammar goes I apologize for that as well!_

Sitting in a shoddily repaired chair outside of the gray stone home I was living in here in Capernaum, I waited for Doran to return.

Doran had taken the last bit of our money to the market. He should be back soon with our basket filled with fish, oils and grains. I felt as though my time was running short and the woman I was staying with deserved at least this last bit of contribution before I was gone.

My breathing came heavily and as I wished for my friend's hurried return, I drifted off to sleep, sitting there in that chair. I had no idea how long I'd slept but a loud and gutteral whoop awoke me.

"The healer is coming!" Doran came running toward me empty-handed and out of breath, shouting and kicking pebbles up from the road, in his hurry. He was holding his side in pain and sweat poured down his handsome, red face but he grabbed my hand and began pulling me with him in the direction he had just come from nonetheless.

I knew instantly to what he was referring and as quickly as I was able, I leapt to my feet. I was running with him even with the immediate feeling of constricion in my lungs-I'd waited too long for this man who cures all to lose my chance now.

For twelve years I'd looked for my cure. And for three years before that I looked for the cure for my father; the tonic for our diseased blood. And finally, here he was. A miracle healer! I'd heard so many stories and I knew, beyond any shadow of doubt that he could heal all my afflictions. So I ran. It should have taken mere minutes to reach the crowded street that ran perpendicular to the one I was residing on but I was already shaking and pale from my efforts.

I focused on Doran's figure running slightly ahead of me, his hand still grasping mine tightly. He has been my driving force these last few years. When I would have given up, he kept me fighting for my life. So now, on this brief stretch of road that seemed to never end, I watched his dark hair whip about his head and thought of how he needed me.

Before this moment I hadn't allowed myself to think of Doran as anything other than my friend. He had told me years ago of his feelings for me but I had shut him out, hoping to lessen the loss he would feel when I finally passed. Now, though, I had hope for a future and all I could really think of was Doran's wide jawed, sharply angled face and his eyes begging me to let him love me. The pain, the healing that was so near- it all suddenly seemed secondary to the real motive for the search, for all the money spent: Doran was my reason. Even before my own father's cure, it was Doran that made me brave the struggle of living. He needed me.

Regret rushed through me at the thought of so much wasted time but that was quickly pushed to the recesses of my mind. I could feel the blood bubbling up in my throat; I coughed hard and some of it trickled past my pale lips and down my chin. I swiped at it with the cloth of my robes, still racing after him.

When we finally reached the street it was over-crowded with people who desperately wanted to catch even a mere glance of this famous healer, Jesus. They were shouting, calling for his attention.

As we began battling the outskirts of the horde I could see a man, on his knees before the healer, about 10 meters in front of us. I couldn't see the healer's face but the man beseeching him from the ground was crying. The healer lay his hand on the man's shoulder and the man wept harder. Finally standing and nodding frantically, the man pointed ahead and they all began to walk, the crowd following.

I pushed further through the multitude, exhaustion riddling my frame, advancing toward the center where Jesus was. After progressing for what seemed an eternity...There he was! I saw him! But he was near to passing me already. _'No!' _I screamed in desperation inside my own mind. _'If I can only touch his robes, I will be healed...' _I felt so weak now after using up the energy just to get the 70 meters from my home but I reached forward anyway taking those last few steps as at last, my body could take no more. I felt myself rush to the ground, but just before hitting- almost unbelievably, the very tips of my fingers grazed the tassles of the robe he wore.

I smiled and clasped my hand around as much of the cloth as I could. I knew in my body that my illness was gone! That was when I noticed HE had turned and was looking at me. I released him, fear closing my throat, knowing how I may have just offended this majestic man. His followers, the men who were said to walk behind him everywhere, had turned as well. They seemed cross and their mouths were moving but all I could hear was a rush of blood pounding through my head.

When I could hear again, I couldn't believe my own ears. The healer was speaking to his friends, almost as though he were disappointed. He bade them stop yelling and turned to me with some emotion...love?...in his eyes and he grasped my shoulders. He pulled me to my feet and smiled. I felt it to my very bones; in my spirit. As he pulled me into an embrace, peace flowed into me. Such ease as I had never felt flowed through my body and mind as he leaned his face to my ear. I felt his breath on my face, his russet hair picking up with the wind just as Doran's had, as he whispered for my ears only, "For your faith in me, who is the Son of Man, you are healed." He pulled me even closer and held my body to his even harder before he continued. "And for your faith in me, who is the Son of God, so your father is healed also."

It wasn't until Jesus had released me, graced me with his kind smile once more and turned away to continue his journey that I realized I had left Doran somewhere far behind me, lost to the crowd. I would find him later though. Right now, the only thing I wanted to do was follow.


End file.
